her cheek. "Of course we argue. Mostly about nothing. It's when the nothing becomes everything that you have to worry."
Laila sighed, thinking of Ian. "I know."
"We just want you to be happy," Bubbe said, squeezing Laila's shoulders again. "It's been a long time since we lost poor Ian, may he rest in peace. It's time you moved on with your life. But we want you to be happy."
"I know you do, Bubbe," Laila said. She gave her grandmother a grateful squeeze.
Bubbe pulled her gently toward a pair of the large overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. "Sit, Laila. Talk to your Bubbe. It'll make you feel better."
Talking to Bubbe always did make her feel better, but this time Laila knew she couldn't open up to her grandmother. Not without spilling the whole awful tower of lies she'd built. Laila's guilt grew in monstrous proportion as she looked into Bubbe's concerned eyes. She'd lied to her family, and why? To make them stop bugging her about leaving behind a relationship she had left behind before it ended.
"Laila?" Bubbe was waiting for her to answer.
"I don't have much to say, Bubbe. We had a fight. That's all. It's nothing I really want to talk about," Laila said.
Bubbe leaned forward to put her hand on Laila's. "Are you sure there isn't something you need to tell me? Your mother's concerned. Eli told her--"
"Eli told her what?" Laila asked suspiciously.
Bubbe sat back in the chair and looked at Laila calmly. It was the same look she'd always given when, as kids, they'd stolen the cookies from the jar. It was an expression designed to force admissions of guilt from even the most reluctant parties.
Laila didn't waver. "There's nothing, Bubbe!"
Bubbe sighed, looking sad. "You know you can come to me for anything, bubbeleh. Any reason. We're your family, doll. We love you. No matter what."
Did they suspect Laila was lying about Hal? Her heart thumped a little harder and her palms felt sweaty. She wiped them on her pants legs, knowing eagle-eyed Bubbe would spot the motion and her nervousness.
"And if it's money you need, Zayde Saul and I have already talked about it. We were planning on giving all you kids equal portions in our wills, but if you need it now, we can arrange that."
Money? Laila frowned. "Why on earth would I need money?" There wouldn't be much left after paying the LoveMatch bill, but she wasn't in dire straits.
"The things you're going to need are going to cost money," Bubbe said, lowering her voice. "You'll have to move out of that tiny little apartment."
"I love my townhouse," Laila said quietly. "Bubbe, if you're thinking about the wedding, don't worry. I don't need money for it."
Money to pay for the week of Hal's services, yes, Laila thought. But for a wedding? Certainly not.
"So he is going to marry you," Bubbe said in visible relief.
Laila had to force the lie. "He is my fianc茅, Bubbe."
"I just thought...well..." Bubbe flapped her hands and laughed. "I thought you were fighting because he wasn't going to the right thing by you."
That was uncomfortably close to what Laila had planned, and she was almost ready to agree. It would save a lot of headache if Bubbe already assumed Hal had broken off the engagement. They wouldn't have to go through the big fight scene tomorrow, after all. Before she could say anything, though, Bubbe laid the final brick in the wall.
"A man's not a real man if he won't stand by the mother of his child," Bubbe said.
"Child?" Laila said. "What are you talking about?"
"Eli told your mother all about what David said to you the other night. We know your little secret. It's okay, doll, really it is. It happens to lots of women." Bubbe leaned in again to share a secret. "Your own mother, bubbeleh, now she'll never tell you this--"
"Stop!" Laila cried, jumping to her feet . There was no way she wanted to hear any more of that little story. "You think I'm--"
"Pregnant!" Bubbe cried.
"Pregnant?" Laila shrieked.
"Pregnant?" Hal asked from the doorway. Then he turned and walked back out.
Chapter 9
Hal couldn't feel his feet. They were walking, carrying him down the hallway and out onto the front porch. But he couldn't feel them. Or, for that matter, his legs. Or his face. Or any part of his body.
Pregnant? But how could that be? They'd made love only just the night before, and he'd used protection. The child couldn't possibly be his.
He stopped before